


Building Temptations

by TheBestFallDown



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Denial, M/M, Romance, first confessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBestFallDown/pseuds/TheBestFallDown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John pushes the limits of what is acceptable between friends, attempting to reconcile his partnership with Mary and his unhealthy attraction to Sherlock.  Sherlock tries to understand why he feels the need to keep bringing John back into his everyday life.  Temptation and denial abounds.  Eventual explicit scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be split into a few chapters. As of right now I'm not sure how long it's going to be. Know that eventually your readership will pay off in the form of some good old-fashioned smut!

_Got any interesting cases, Sherlock?_

John hit send, immediately regretting his decision. What was he expecting? Sherlock texted him, not the other way around. John was just bored. So very bored. Work had been alright, a welcome distraction even, when he had believed that Sherlock was dead. But now everything just seemed so...routine and ordinary. Yes, there were the marriage plans, but John just couldn't keep down the want, the _need_ to be around Sherlock. He longed for the days in 221 B, where things were relatively uncomplicated. Where he could be around Sherlock as much as he wanted, not worrying about being in the way or about seeming too eager for the man's company. Ever since Mary, it had become more and more difficult to find excuses to visit. Sure, Mary appeared to support the friendship between John and Sherlock, but when John looked at her he could see a small twinge of something lurking in her eyes. Sadness? Jealousy? John couldn't quite place it, but he knew it didn't bode well for him.

John waited for a reply. He waited one hour. He waited two. He waited until the end of his shift. He returned to his apartment with Mary, and attempted to focus on her as they went out for dinner. He attempted to forget about his phone, tried to quash the feelings of sadness and disappointment he felt at the lack of response. He failed on both counts. Night came, and John went to bed. He placed his phone on the bedside table. He lay down facing the phone, eventually falling asleep. No message came.

John awoke. He felt Mary still asleep beside him, heard her even breathing. He reached out for his phone. Nothing. John sighed, and resigned himself to no longer look at his phone. He angrily turned over, facing the other wall and his fiance.

John then heard a buzz. He turned over so fast he was afraid he had awakened Mary. Satisfied that he hadn't, John reached for his phone.

_John. Something interesting popped up. Need your input. Come to Baker Street. -SH_

John looked at the time on his phone. It read 3:30. There was no way that John could feasibly get over to Baker Street that early in the morning. Not without arousing some uncalled for suspicion. 3:30 was for booty calls, not for two platonic friends meeting up.

_Do you have any idea what time it is Sherlock?_

A few moments passed.

_Doesn't matter what time it is. I need to talk to you. -SH_

John tried to ignore the way that last sentence made him feel. He breathed in deeply, calming his heart to an acceptable rate, and replied.

_I'm not coming over at this hour. You'll have to wait until I've had my sleep._

John hit send. He then thought for a few more moments.

_I'll be there at 8. Only for a few minutes._

John sighed. Reasonable. Reasonable time. Friends met for breakfast all the time, right? It was no big deal. Just two best friends. Breakfast. Coffee. Casual murder conversation. Nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. Another buzz was heard.

_Fine. Don't be late. -SH_

John smiled, despite his best efforts not to. _As if you're ever on time,_ he thought.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sherlock tossed his phone to the side of the couch and curled up into the back, his face pressed into the fabric. _Why couldn't he just come now?_ Sherlock was so very bored. What was he supposed to do? Sleep? Sherlock missed the days when he could simply bother John until he woke up, bounce ideas off of him, and smirk at the silly things he would try and come up with. What was Sherlock supposed to do without his conductor of light at his every beck and call?

Sherlock knew that John was most likely humoring him, and his morbid curiosity into the cases Sherlock was apt to find. Or have delivered to him. This meant that Sherlock needed a really, really good case to wow John with.

There had been no case he needed to discuss with John. Seeing the text from him earlier had reinforced in Sherlock's mind the sad truth that there was simply nothing interesting in his life. _Anymore._ The word popped uninvited into Sherlock's mind. Sherlock waved it away. _John wasn't interesting. He was just..._ But Sherlock couldn't think of what else to say. John had been...he'd been John. There was nothing else to say on that matter. He'd been the person who listened to Sherlock rant and rave about things that he couldn't possibly have began to understand. He'd been the one who would follow Sherlock wherever he went, embracing danger like an old friend. He'd been the one who understood Sherlock's moods. And would calm him when he stepped out of line. _Had been, had been._ Sherlock realized that his eyes had begun to blur. _It must be spring. Damned allergies. I need to remind Ms. Hudson to refrain from opening my windows._ Sherlock blinked several times and buried his face deeper into the couch, willing a few hours of sleep his way.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

John walked up the steps of 221 B to find Sherlock sprawled on the couch. _Asleep?_ It was rare for John to see him in such a position. In all the time that John had lived with Sherlock, he had only ever seen the man asleep a handful of times. Sherlock was currently curled up in what appeared to be his clothes from the day before on the couch. _He looks so...vulnerable. And calm._ John studied his face. It was almost surreal to his forehead free of the usual wrinkles that came from concentration. There was no erratic movement, no tapping of feet or hands, no energy bubbling under the surface. Sherlock was at rest. _Beautiful._ John waved away the though. _Different. That's what I meant. Different._ As John began to question whether or not he should wake Sherlock, the other man bolted upright from the couch, suddenly completely and totally alert.

“Oh, John. I see you made it. Good.”

The Sherlock of moments before had been completely erased.

“So then. What was it you wanted to discuss Sherlock?” John waited for a response. Sherlock looked as if he had no idea what John was talking about. “The case? The important thing? What you texted me about at an ungodly hour this morning? Ringing any bells, Sherlock?” Sherlock paused for a moment.

“Oh yes, right. The case. Nasty business. There's a man who believes he's cursed or something ridiculous like that. People around him keep dying. That's the interesting part. Cashier at the grocery store that he frequents, bank teller, and the next-door neighbor so far. Still haven't found a motive. The man is extremely ordinary. Nothing special. But the deaths. Very peculiar indeed.” John's interest had definitely been piqued. He responded.

“So, what is it that you want from me? It sounds like you don't have much to go on.”

“That's why we need a stakeout, John. We need to follow this man, see if anything strange presents itself. Someone following him, persistent strangeness, something. And two sets of eyes are better than one.” _Oh no_ thought John. _Too much like old times, could I handle it? Is it proper? Of course it's proper, we're just two friends. Nothing has changed. Everything is fine. I can't do a whole day though, no, have to limit myself._

“Sherlock, I have a job and a fiance. I can't just run around London with you for days on end.” John had sounded a bit more brusque than was called for. And Sherlock had heard the tone in his voice, it seemed. A twinge of...sadness maybe? It was gone in an instant, so John couldn't be sure. _Just imagining it, I'm sure._

“Oh, right. Well, a few hours wouldn't kill you. Come on, let's go.”

“What, right now? I've got work.” John replied, a bit taken aback but not altogether surprised. Sherlock was always very abrupt.

“Mary can handle things, I'm sure. Murder is much more important than a few cases of the sniffles, wouldn't you say John?” John had learned long ago that arguing with Sherlock was often a moot point. _So much for only staying for a few minutes._ And so, with a much more excited and warm feeling in his stomach than was altogether proper, John followed Sherlock out of the flat and onto the streets of London. _Just a few hours. I can handle this. It's fine. It's not indecent. Just two friends following a client._ John steadied himself, and fell in stride beside Sherlock. _This will be a trying day._

 


	2. Lying to Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running around the city, the two try to reconcile the thoughts that keep bombarding them.

Sherlock calculated that he had about three days before John caught on to the fact that the man they were following was not a client. In fact, Sherlock had chosen him specifically because he was a slightly paranoid, but altogether ordinary man. Mid-20's, lived alone in a flat in the city, worked in an office as a courier. Nothing exceptional. However, Sherlock had chosen this particular man because he was so often on the go. Which meant that he and John could follow him all over the city, and Sherlock was absolutely convinced that John wouldn't see anything as amiss. At least, not at first. Sherlock had already planned out the termination of this “case”, and would end it in two days' time. _And now to begin. Our “client” is getting on the train now._ Sherlock and John followed the man onto the busy car, staying back a few feet and acting in as nonchalant a manner as possible. Well, at least John was.

John couldn't shake the feeling that Sherlock was staring at him a lot more than he was staring at the client. _I thought we were supposed to be on the lookout for suspicious people around this guy? Sherlock is probably up to something, I shouldn't even bother. He's probably scanned and cataloged every damn person in this car already._ John looked up at Sherlock, and saw the other man's eyes quickly dart to the faces of the other passengers. _That's the tenth time this trip, and we've only been moving for 7 minutes._ John attempted to brush it off as Sherlock just being his usual self, and tried not to look at Sherlock looking at him. He didn't want him to become uncomfortable with the fact that John knew about the staring. After all, it was a little nice to be the center of Sherlock's focus. _Just looking. Not too nice. Nothing improper. I just miss having the attention of my friend, that's all._

Sherlock mentally kicked himself once again. _You idiot, stop looking at him and try to pay attention to the ruse!_ Sherlock had finished cursory deductions on the passengers surrounding his target already, and had already come up with some nonsense to tell John. _Why do I keep finding myself looking in his direction? Pull yourself together, at this rate he's going to figure it out by tonight and then where will you be?_ Sherlock suddenly smacked himself on the face with both hands. He saw John look up, confused and slightly alarmed. “It's nothing John, just haven't been getting much sleep. Need to refocus. Big case and all that.” Sherlock could see that John was not wholly convinced. Regardless, he watched as John went back to surreptitiously studying the other passengers. Sherlock again found that he had been staring, and went back to hawkishly gazing at the commuters.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The two of them had traveled all over the city. John had texted Mary that morning and told her that he would be in after lunch. Her response had seemed curt, but maybe that was just John projecting his fears onto the words. As the two men passed a sandwich shop, John suddenly realized that he hadn't checked to see how long he'd been out. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. 6 _:00. God damn it!_ John should have expected that this would happen. Whenever he was with Sherlock, it seemed like the passage of time had little significance.

Often, when they had been together- _Lived together, not been together_ John interrupted himself. When they had _lived_ together, they would spend many a night going over points on a case, and John would only realize how long they had been at it by the tiring of his body. And even then, John had often pushed himself past the limits of what he thought his body could take. Sherlock had that effect on him. He infused him with a kind of energy that John had never felt before. When John was with Sherlock, he felt like he could undertake any task, for as longer than he thought possible.

The two of them were currently tailing the man who appeared, to John at least, to be a very ordinary, if slightly paranoid, man. And honestly, he wondered why the man never even thought to look back at Sherlock. They had been following him all day , surely he would want to report in and check up on what Sherlock thought. Though maybe Sherlock had said something to him ahead of time. _Yes, that makes sense. What else would it be?_

John looked at Sherlock. The amount of times that he caught Sherlock looking at him had decreased since the first train ride, but they still occurred. _About every ten minutes it seems. But why? Normally I can't get him to notice me at all when he's on a case. Hell, I often have to get directly in his line of sight before he'll so much as acknowledge me._ Currently, Sherlock was looking at the barista who was serving the client his espresso. If John didn't know better, he would have thought that Sherlock was more looking _through_ her than at her. But then again, maybe he was just thinking about someone or something from earlier and had already dismissed the worker as unimportant.

“Sherlock, I need to make a phone call. I missed work and I need to talk to Mary, so...I'll just pop off for a minute and be right back.” Sherlock turned his head slightly and nodded, quickly returning to his staring. John sighed and headed outside to the street. _She didn't even text me when I missed showing up. This is going to be bad._

Sherlock released a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding when John left to make the call. To be honest, Sherlock had been keeping a _very_ close eye on the time, and had been curious to see what John would do once lunchtime had come and gone. Sherlock had tried, and failed, to suppress the strange sense of joy he'd felt when he'd noticed that John hadn't even realized he'd missed work. _I knew he couldn't resist the case. Always draws him in._ Though he had been worried. After all, Mary was his fiance. _Mary_ was who John lived with now. Mary was important.

_More important than you._

Sherlock tried to wave away the thought.

 _But John stayed with me today. I won._ Again, Sherlock grimaced at the ugly idea.

_It's not a contest. She's in a relationship with him and you're....his friend._

Sherlock decided that he needed something in his system. He stormed up to the counter.

“Vanilla latte. Double-no, triple shot.” Sherlock practically barked at the poor girl behind the counter, but he didn't notice.

John returned from outside. Mary had been curt, but John could tell that she had expected him not to come in today. He sighed as he thought about talking with her, or at least attempting to, that night. When she was cold, there wasn't much that John could do. Except feel a bit scared. John was momentarily surprised at the sight of Sherlock drinking coffee. _More like chugging. It's like he's not even tasting it._ “I thought you didn't like to eat on cases? Slows you down or something like that.”

“Coffee doesn't count, John.” Sherlock quipped, almost brusquely. _Maybe Sherlock really was tired. Or just being his normal, friendly self._ John tried to hold back a smile, but Sherlock had seen it.

“Do you find something amusing?” Sherlock asked.

“Not at all, I just find it funny is all. Different. You, sitting in a cafe, drinking coffee. It's very...normal of you.” Sherlock scoffed and finished off the dregs of his drink. John looked around to see where the client had gone, and quickly realized that he couldn't find him anywhere.

“Umm, Sherlock?” John asked. “Where is the man?” Sherlock looked momentarily confused.

“The man?” he responded.

“Yes. The man we've been following around all day?”

“Oh, yes. He told me he was heading home, said we could pick up again with the observation tomorrow. No need to worry about him.” John sighed.

“But what if something happens to him on the way home? Aren't there people to watch on the train?”

“Oh, I'm sure it's fine. You remember how uneventful the train was this morning.” Sherlock seemed really bored with the idea of following his client, which didn't fall in with the tone of urgency John had read in the text he'd received from Sherlock just this morning. _This whole case seems a bit...odd._ John thought to himself. _Which is saying something._ Before John could think on this more, Sherlock had sprung up out of his chair.

“I'm sorry today wasn't more interesting. Perhaps tomorrow will be better. I've got to go, something's come up.” With that, Sherlock briskly walked out of the shop, not allowing John so much as a response. John didn't remember Sherlock looking at his phone, but then again he had been lost in thought. John resigned himself to what would be awaiting him at home, and headed out to hail a taxi.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sherlock slammed the door to his room and threw himself on the bed. _You know what you're doing is wrong. You're just trying to keep him all to yourself. Where do you think this is going to lead? You can't keep him around forever. He has someone else. Someone who's right for him._ Sherlock couldn't stop the barrage of thoughts from assaulting him. He knew they were right. John was not his to keep. He belonged to another. He had never, in fact, belonged to Sherlock in the first place. _So why does it feel like I've lost him? What am I grasping at? What am I trying to accomplish with this whole thing?_

Sherlock rolled over to face the wall, staring at John's old walking stick. John probably didn't realize that he'd held on to it. After John had ceased to carry it, Sherlock had sneaked it in from the bins. He wasn't sure why.

 _You know exactly why._ Sherlock rolled away and faced in the other direction.

_Something is wrong with me._

_You know exactly what it is._ His inner voice shot back at him.

_It's not true! I just miss my companion. He made me feel..._

_Loved?_

_Happy. Complete._

_And love. You know it. Stop trying to pass it off. You know the signs. You can feel your irregular heartbeat and sense the clamminess in your palms whenever he's in the room._

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh.

_Just accept it. It's been there all along, from the first moment. You can't keep running from the truth. You **know.** _

_I do know. And it's killing me._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love conversations in Sherlock's head. I live for them.


End file.
